


Pins And Needles

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Bondage, Bulges and Nooks, Choking, M/M, Porn Without Plot, nook!Sol, psiionic bondage, psiionic choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd never admit it before him, but you're really, really into this. Thank god he's the one who brought it up, though. Otherwise you'd have just kept doing nothing like the nookstain you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pins And Needles

His skin tastes, unsurprisingly, like sweat. Sweat, as well as a tinge of motor oil, and just the tiniest tang of metal. You keep your hips pressed right to his, your hands slipping under his shirt, because even if you  _can_  undress him first, its more fun to cut him out of his clothes, even if you have to deal with cleaning up bits of sticky fabric afterwards.

He jolts against the crackling red and blue around his wrists and ankles, his thighs and throat and you drag your claws down his sides, over the ridges of his hips. He gasps, turns his head, and mewls when you bite his ear, his bulge already pressing against his shorts in the front. You rake your claws back up his sides and he moans outright, so oversensitive it kills you.

Doing this made you feel guilty, at first. He’s so starved for contact that he can hardly manage not to soak through his clothes when you just lean on him, and then you’re doing this. But, on the other hand, he asked for it every time, asked politely and quietly while you were tracing the shape of his collarbones with your lips and teeth, for you to restrain him with your psionics, and once you’d gotten used to that, for you to choke him with them.

You’d never been uncomfortable with it, though. You suppose that’s why you felt guilty, because it just made you feel great, petting his hair while he gasped for breath when you allowed him it. Even though he was always so calm and cozy afterwards, all loose-limbed and laying on you to press his face into your chest and doze, this sweet, dopey grin on his face. You stopped making yourself feel guilty after that, after you talked with him a few times about it and he assured you that, without a doubt, he enjoyed every second of it.

He’s shaking a little so you kiss him, soothe your hands down his sides, and marvel over how his mouth only tastes like cold and damp and giving, until he rocks his hips into yours as best as he can, with him pinned to the wall like he is. You’re sure there will be some new dents, but that’s fine, you’ll just let him silently hammer them out the way he does, a few days after you wear him out.

Your legs shift around his hips and you feel the curve of his bulge against your ass, and he gasps when you press against him. “Are you out already? I didn’t even get you naked.” You kiss under his jaw, smiling a little. “No restraint, huh? You’re fucking disgusting.”

“S-sorry…” He shudders. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to.”

Like always, rubbing your thumb up against the bottom of his horn’s point makes his hips buck, just barely, his bulge writhing desperately against the fabric of his pants. “I’ll let it go this time. Don’t disappoint me again.” You keep your voice gentle, he likes that better, and grind down against him. “Now tell me what you want.” You punctuate that sentence with a pinch to his earlobe.

“I want you to choke me.” He nearly whispers, face all flushed. “Please. I want you to choke me.”

Laughing, you roll your hips into him again, your hand pulling into a fist in his hair. “That’s all you want?” The balls of your feet press against his ass when you grind into him, getting just a little friction from it against your nook. “You don’t even want me to touch you? You don’t want my nook?” He licks his lips as you finish speaking, his hands flexing like he wants to pull you against himself; you lean away to spite him.

“I did not think I deserved it, Sollux.” He murmurs, ears twitching downwards.

Your nook clenches on nothing, too painfully empty with his bulge squirming there against you like it is. “Who said it would be for you? I need to get something out of this, right? Even if I have to get it from a fucking sweatrag like you.” You drag your thumb’s claw over his bottom lip, pulling his mouth open with no resistance.

Equius is still shaking, his cheeks dark blue. He doesn’t protest when you press your thumb against his tongue, holding his jaw wide with one hand while the other tears his shirt off. He gasps deliciously when your psionics slice through his shorts at the waist, just strong enough to leave a twitching, tingling trail over his skin. Your own clothes you just shimmy out of and toss aside, holding your entire weight against his shoulders to feel him strain under your fingers.

His bulge is cold against your skin, almost soothing when you slick the lips of your nook against it, but when you slide your hand over it to lead the tip into your nook, the stretch and Equius’s gutteral groan, followed by a whispered chorus of “please please please” just makes your body tense and tingle. It takes you a few minutes to get him seated in your nook properly, and then you grind down against him a couple times, nearly drooling at the thick weight of his bulge writhing inside you, your thighs twitching from an orgasm that you kind of expect when you take him.

He gasps softly when you pull his mouth open again, eyes on his own as your psionics press in around his throat. His feet, still in his shoes, move this way and that, fighting the bonds on his ankles out of instinct. His hands tighten into fists, until you press them flat with another few bands of red and blue energy.  Even his bulge thrashes in you more, the slight lump it makes in your abdomen moving from it.

Your energy vanishes from around his throat and he coughs, gasping for air while his body just kind of shudders, his nook making a wet trail down his thigh. Blueish tears roll down his cheeks, gathering at the point of his chin, and he rocks his hips desperately against yours, looking so damn pathetic your pusher bleeds six ways to Sunday for him, you have to remind yourself of the scene to keep from stopping to tuck him against your rumblespheres and taking him as slowly as you could manage.

“You really get off on that, don’t you?” You purr, voice a little lower and huskier from the attention your nook is getting. “That’s fucking disgraceful. You’re a waste of a blueblood, you know that?”

He nods, coughing again and trying to push forward. “I’m, I’m sorry. I know, I’m sorry. Y-you, I just, your nook is gr-great.” His voice is all shaky when he says that, it’s actually cute how he still avoids saying things like that when you’ve gotten him to pin you to the floor and ram you until you literally could not walk, all the while telling you how it felt. He’s not a very conventional troll, you guess. “I love your nook, it’s, so good. Sollux, it’s so good.”

“Is it? Nice and warm, mm?” You groan, rotating your hips and keeping your eyes locked on his, you’re so close. Your words come out strained and harsh for it. “Bet you’d love to come inside me, huh? Wanna fuck me into the ground?”

Equius’s thighs tense and he bites his bottom lip, ears pointing down when he nods. He doesn’t speak, though, and you pat his cheek, rocking against him slow and leisurely, your head falling back with little moans here and there, your psionics crackling back to life around his throat. The best he manages is a sigh before he can’t breathe again, then he’s choking out praise, gasping that he loves your nook, that you’re perfection trollsonified, and you fluctuate your powers, never pushing quite enough that he can’t get any air and mostly just pressing at his blood vessels to make him light headed.

The second orgasm makes you keen, softly, your spine going rigid and your legs refusing to move from the force of it. Equius whines, shivering, trying to move against you but you hold him tight, your face coloring and your breath coming in sharp pants.

He keeps leaning forward, straining against his bonds to try and reach your lips, and you play along by pulling back, laughing a little and rocking into him harder. His bulge is pressed up against everything inside you, twisted over on itself and it’s almost enough to make you see stars, but you keep your head, lifting yourself and dropping back on his bulge quickly, one hand in his hair and the other around his horn.

(He asked you not to scratch him as much as you did a while ago; not because he disliked it, but because his kismesis got upset, and he said he “just didn’t want to deal with it”. If not for that, you’d be scoring lines from his collar to his hips, just to make him writhe.)

At some point, he starts to drool, babbling that he needs to come, that he’s falling apart and he needs you and he needs to come, and you stop. You just stay against him, his bulge writhing inside you, and look him in the eyes, dragging your claws over the sensitive skin of his throat.

“Why would I care if you need to come? I haven’t finished with you yet. If I even let you, I’ll tell you when.” You growl, closing your hand over his throat and watching the excitement float up in his eyes, his bulge lashing again. “Now. The only thing I want to hear out of your worthless mouth is ‘thank you’, understood?”

He nods. You pet his cheek and go back to moving, your third orgasm creeping up on you and making you tense around him again. He whimpers, choked off and light as it is. He’s so good. You’re already looking forward to him curling up against you and just sleeping with you for a while, it’s nice to be exhausted together and sleep and occasionally wake up and have drowsy, hands-everywhere-eyes-closed-barely-awake sex. You want to kiss him again, but you wait, moving harder against him.

“Come for me.” You bark, your legs getting tight as you come a third time, nook fluttering. “Come on, come on.”

Equius sobs, hips pushing forward as hard far as they can as he comes, his bulge twisting up to press your seedflap open and fill you with cold blue. You rock into him as you’re filled, your fourth and (thankfully, now that your legs are cramped) final orgasm hitting you. He keeps sobbing as he comes down, shaking all over and, when his arms are free and you’re curled around each other on the floor, clinging to you. You keep petting at him, soothing him, and he murmurs that he’s okay, he’s fine.

You repeat it at him, that he’s fine, you’re here, and that you adore him. He calms down slowly, and only after about twenty minutes of hushed talking does he let you finish undressing him, then he carries you to the pile you put together earlier that night. You chuckle when he presses his nose between your rumblespheres and call him a woofbeast, head light and fuzzy with the sex and all the attention you’re sharing with him.

“Why do you even like those, EQ?” You ask, scratching the base of his horn while he seems to be planning on never leaving your chest. “There’s hardly any 'sphere there, and you never do this with NP.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does gain a new sheen of sweat. You decide to drop it. It’s kind of nice, anyway. AA and him are the only two who really give much attention to them. It’s almost romantic, for groping.

As per usual, he dozes off first, wrapped loosely around you and purring up a storm while you lay against him and watch videos on your palmhusk until you join him in sleep. It’s cozy, and when you half wake up a few hours later with your back to his chest and his nose under your jaw, you don’t even have to think before you press your legs open for his bulge.

He kisses your ear, tucks you closer against himself and murmurs some slurred version of “flushed for you”. You press yourself back and drawl the same, moaning low as he presses into you. It’s easier to make noise when it’s like this, your eyes closed and your head turned to catch him in kind of dry-mouthed kisses, most of them missing his lips and hitting his nose or cheek or jaw. He giggles softly when you accidentally flick your tongue over his nose, his hand cupping your jaw all to gently and his lips pressing to yours.

You moan into his mouth when he kisses you, your hands tangling in his sort of frizzy hair to keep him close even when you both pull back to breathe. Your nook is pulsing, twitching because he’s only halfway inside you, and you keep trying to whisper that you want more but he’s speaking over you, telling you that you’ll be sore if he does. You laugh, gasping and breathy, as you come, muttering that he must think a lot of himself. He grumbles something agreeing as he comes, most of the material just spilling out.

The two of you end up sleeping in the pile all sticky and sweaty and sore until midday, and then you manage to wake him enough to move to your coon and even though you have two sides you press into one with him and fall asleep again. It’s nice. You should ask him to move in officially, you think.

But that can wait until tonight. Right now, you just want to keep him pressed to your chest and purr and rest, because it’s all good and you’ve come to learn that if you overthink it you’ll miss the goodness of the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> choking and bottom doms? yep, this is my most self-indulgent trash bullshit yet.  
> if you enjoyed this, consider tipping me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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